


When At First You Don't Succeed

by toowincesttolive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e04 The End, Self-Harm, Suicidal Sam, Suicidal Sam Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, suicide warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10748817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toowincesttolive/pseuds/toowincesttolive
Summary: Takes place during 5.04 The End from where Sam is. Exploring the part where Lucifer said he would just bring Sam back if he tried to kill himself.





	When At First You Don't Succeed

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in less than an hour and just wanted to go ahead and post it. Don't hate me because it definitely has not been proofread

_ Pick a hemisphere. _ That’s what Dean said. Sam is Lucifer’s vessel, and he reaches out to the one person he has ever had. And he gets the worst kind of rejection. Not just no but get as far away from me as is physically possible.

Dean didn’t want him. Did not want to be near him. Ever again. Not that Sam blamed him. He couldn’t save Dean from going to hell. He beat Dean into a corner and ran off to the demon who had been playing him the whole time. He started the apocalypse.

Sam took his phone and went to the saved voicemails. He listened to Dean’s commitment not to try to save him anymore. He listened to Dean call him a monster. Then he listened again. And again. He listened until he was no longer standing staring at the phone but laying on the floor, replaying the message over and over. Tears streaked his face, but Sam had given up on wiping them away. He didn’t give a damn anymore.

He believed it. He was a monster. And it was only a matter of time until Lucifer made him say yes.

For a moment, Sam saw his future. He saw himself saying yes. He saw the world through the eyes of a body that wasn’t his anymore. He saw his hands closing around his brother’s throat and the life leave the eyes of the only person he would be willing to end the world for.

With a sharp gasp, Sam shot up off the floor. The voicemail was still playing, so he couldn’t have fallen asleep for long, but it was long enough.

Sam knew he had only one option left. Without Dean, with all of the guilt of the last few years held over his head, with Lucifer staring down his future, Sam decided to fix everything at once.

The only foolproof way Sam could think to kill himself was by bullet. He remembered flipping through one of Jess’ anatomy textbooks years ago. There was a way he could do it instantly and painlessly. If the bullet could go right through his brain stem, it could go a lot faster maybe.

Sam took the liberty of finishing the last of a bottle of whiskey on his nightstand first. He considered writing a note, but the only person he would wanted to read was Dean, and he doubted Dean would even care enough to ID his body. So, no note.

Sam finally decided he was ready, sitting on the edge of his bed with his gun in his hand. He lifted the gun to the base of his skull, trying to get the positioning right. It was harder to focus when he was this drunk, but he managed. He closed his eyes and let his finger press the trigger.

Right as he pulled the trigger, a force pushed his hand forward. The bullet tore through his jugular and he felt the splatter of blood immediately. All resistance left his body and he slid back on the bed, but his body only caught the edge and he bounced off the side and hit the floor face down.

He felt every bone in his body. The warmth of the carpet as his blood soaked into it. He was acutely aware as the life drained out of him. There was only pain, at first, and he would have given anything to make it stop. As he grew nearer to death, the pain receded and he felt calm and sleepy. He closed his eyes as his limbs grew cold, and he was filled with warmth.

For a brief second, he saw a bright white light. In that light, he could see the front door of a dive bar. The parking lot had a ‘67 Chevy Impala, and Sam knew beyond that door waited a warm homecoming that filled him with happiness and peace. He just had to open the door.

 

Another hard gasp followed by deep, painful breaths brought him back. He was laying the bed at the hotel he had just shot himself in. It was the same room. He rose up slowly, expecting to feel sore, but he didn’t. He reached around his neck, and felt nothing but smooth skin. His hand came away clean. He was alive, and there was no evidence of his suicide attempt. He looked over the side of the bed at the floor, but it was clean, too. He traced his eyes over the whole room until they landed on a small white note.

_ Don’t do that again. I’ll make it worse. _

A shiver crawled up Sam’s spine and he set down the note.

 

An hour passed but he was too jittery to sleep and he had no more alcohol and no money for more.

He looked at the note again with it warning. He stared at its writing that called out to him.

_ Idiot. _

_ Coward. _

_ Try again. _

_ I dare you. _

Eventually Sam tore the note to pieces and forced himself to lay on the bed again. He resigned himself to staring at the ceiling all night if he had to.

 

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he woke up the next morning to sunlight streaming through the blinds. He immediately picked up his phone out of habit. Before he could check the messages, he remembered what Dean had told him the night before, and set down his phone.

 

He wandered through the room the whole day, not wanting to leave to get food or find a job to get food. The room was paid for through the week with the last credit card he had, so he knew he would eventually need to find another income of some kind, but he could not be bothered with that today. He paced. He went to the bathroom and stared at his reflection. He walked out, forgetting about needing to brush his teeth or shower. He laid out on the bed, but never slept.

 

Eventually, he resolved to try again. This time he forgot about the brain stem. He put the gun in his mouth.

 

How the hell Lucifer managed to force him to fuck that one up, he did not know. He knew everything must have happened quickly because the sun was in the same place, but he felt like he had been writhing for years.

 

After that he gave up on guns. He tried suffocating himself with a plastic bag and a few rubber bands. He filled a bath and dropped a brick on his best to hold him under. He’d heard that drowning was the most terrifying and painful way to go, but now he had proof. That one was pretty bad. He tried to hang himself, but woke up from that, too. The rope has not even in place anymore. He filled a bath again and his time dug a knife into both of his wrists. Again, he woke up 

and there was no trace of blood.

 

After that last time, he took to praying. He prayed to every angel he knew of to take him. To kill him and bury his soul wherever they wanted. To do with him whatever they wanted, but none showed and he remained alive.

He spent the night begging the angels to take him, falling asleep at one point. He woke up to his phone ringing. When he saw the bright “D” he knew someone had finally killed him and left him in heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> Please Please leave kudos or comment if you liked it! I know it was pretty not happy, but I wanted to write out the thought when I had it.


End file.
